


Where Stars Were Written

by Lady_Vibeke



Series: A Thin Red Line Between Stubborn Spirits [8]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cara is a Smug Little Shit, Cute Kids, Din and Cara are Proud and Loving Parents, F/M, Family Fluff, Feels, Idiots in Love, Return to Sorgan, Sibling Love, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: “You have a new foundling?""No,” Din almost laughs, “no,” he adds, voice getting softer as he glances at Shari's dark hair. She's whispering something in her brother's ear, all dimples and mischief. “We got this one the old-fashioned way.""We?”Omera blinks at him, then looks back to Shari, frowning. After a few seconds her frown deepens: “She reminds me of-"“Hey, handsome. Catching up without me?”Din turns in the direction he came from: Cara is sauntering across the field, cheeks flushed by the heat; she has a handful of bright red berries in her palm and, judging by the colour of her lips, she's already had a lot of those.“Where have you been?” he asks with the same tone he used to tell the children to behave.Cara looks down at the fruits in her hand with a satisfied smile, “I found a bush of oi-ois, can you believe it? Couldn't resist. I haven't had one of these inyears!”“That's because you hate them," he argues, genuinely confused. Cara can barely stand the mere sight of oi-ois.As if she didn't even hear him, Cara pops a couple of the berries into her mouth, chewing with gusto.[ After 5 years, Din and Cara return to Sorgan with the kids. ]
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: A Thin Red Line Between Stubborn Spirits [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579576
Comments: 32
Kudos: 175





	1. Take Me Back to the Night We Met

**Author's Note:**

> Rememer when in "In You, The Beauty of the World" I told you Tahti's name was importrant? This fic is the reason I said that. :3 It's set between the end of "Trust Me to Take You Home" and "In You, The Beauty of the World".
> 
> Once again, this is sheer, unrelenting FLUFF! Enjoy your cavities!
> 
> This chapter's title is from The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

When he steps out into the clearing among the trees, Din is abruptly jolted back in time: he takes in the huts, the small ponds scattered across the green grass, the farmers humming songs as they work, and everything is exactly like when he was last here, seven years ago that feel like forever. The only thing that is different is him. Him, he reasons, smiling, and the people he's with.

“Papa, can we swim?”

He looks down at his three-year-old daughter, who's eyeing the small bodies of water with such greed he's afraid she might run off and jump into one of them before he can stop her. He holds her hand a little more firmly.

“Those are not to play,” he explains. “I'm talking to both of you,” he adds, moving his look just a little lower, to where Vodi's green ears are perking up next to his sister.

He gets a pair of utterly innocent looks in return, which make him shake his head with an indulgent smile. These two are learning too much from their mother.

Vodi's ears flutter as he stares at Din with a very clear question in his eyes.

“You can check the ponds,” he says. “But don't touch anything and don't disturb those people, alright?”

The kids are already running off as Shari mumbles something he doesn't catch. Din looks back to the path behind him to see if Cara is coming: she stopped to drink from the stream that cuts the wood in two, she's probably enjoying the fresh water. It's very hot and muggy, here.

Din adjusts the backpack he's carrying on his shoulder and walks in the kids' direction. A few feet away, a woman kneeling by one of the ponds takes a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun and freezes. The net she's holding slips out of her hands and sinks into the water as her jaw drops.

Din recognises her at once: her hair bears gray streaks and is pinned up into a knot behind her head, but she hasn't changed much.

“Omera,” he greets with a slight bow of his helmet.

She stands up, hastily cleaning her hands in her gown, and straightens her back to offer him a bright smile.

“It is really you.”

Standing so closely, Din can spot a few details he couldn't see from afar: the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, the slightly hollow cheeks. She still looks pretty by common standards, he guesses.

“This is an overdue visit, isn't it?”

"I knew you'd come back, one day,” she says, shyly gazing up at him through her lashes.

Din looks around, dodging the awkward position her comment puts him in.

“Seems like nothing has changed, here,” he observes. The periphery of his attention is pinned on the children: they have their arms deep into the water up to their elbows and are giggling furiously under the amused looks of the people around them.

“We live in peace, now,” says Omera. “Thanks to you.”

She follows his gaze to the pond and spots Vodi while he's sending Din a toothy grin. When he notices Omera, he grins at her, too.

“He remembers you,” says Din, vaguely surprised.

“And I remember him,” replies Omera. It takes her a moment to realise the little girl in pigtails playing with the green baby she knows is not one of the kids of the village. She looks back at Din, clearly puzzled.

“You have a new foundling?"

"No,” Din almost laughs, “no,” he adds, voice getting softer as he glances at Shari's dark hair. She's whispering something in her brother's ear, all dimples and mischief. “We got this one the old-fashioned way."

 _"We?”_ Omera blinks at him, then looks back to Shari, frowning. After a few seconds her frown deepens: “She reminds me of-"

“Hey, handsome. Catching up without me?”

Din turns in the direction he came from: Cara is sauntering across the field, cheeks flushed by the heat; she has a handful of bright red berries in her palm and, judging by the colour of her lips, she's already had a lot of those.

“Where have you been?” he asks with the same tone he used to tell the children to behave.

Cara looks down at the fruits in her hand with a satisfied smile, “I found a bush of oi-ois, can you believe it? Couldn't resist. I haven't had one of these in _years!”_

“That's because you hate them,” he argues, genuinely confused. Cara can barely stand the mere sight of oi-ois.

As if she didn't even hear him, Cara pops a couple of the berries into her mouth, chewing with gusto.

“Delicious,” she purrs, smirking defiantly at him. “I don't know how the kids missed it. Bean's yum-yum radar rarely fails.”

Din shakes his head. Sometimes it's just easier to give up understanding her.

“They were probably too riled up by the new environment.” He lets Cara come forward, then turns to Omera again. “Omera, you remember Cara, I'm sure?”

The way the woman is looking at Cara is strangely curious, as though she's never seen her before or doesn't quite recognise her.

Cara _is_ different from the version of her Omera met years ago: she used to be just a soldier, then, alone in the world; now she's still a warrior, but she's also someone's friend, someone's wife, someone's mother. She still wears her armour proudly, though it's beskar, now; she also has let her hair grow out and wears it braided in a mohawk-like fashion that shows off the length of her thick, jet black locks. Between this hairdo and the beskar, in fact, she looks like a goddess from the old Mandalorian myths.

It takes a few seconds for Omera to give a polite nod and a smile.

“Of course. It's good to see you again.”

Cara smiles back. “It's good to be back.”

Omera's look keeps flipping from Din to Cara, who are standing suspiciously close to each other.

“Have you two been working together?”

Din, who was expecting a question like this, takes Cara's hand before she can utter one of her snarky lines and quickly says, “Not just that, actually.”

“ _Oh.”_ Omera's features finally light up in understanding.

“I'm Mrs Mando, now,” says Cara with a modest shrug which somehow conveys anything but modesty.

This is when Omera seems to notice the matching signets on their pauldrons. A flush of red rises to her ears.

“Congratulations,” she says. She looks suddenly stiff. “You have a beautiful daughter. She looks just like you.”

Cara nods smugly. “We get that all the time."

“Both in looks and character,” Din cuts in, giving her hand a squeeze, to which Cara responds with a nudge of her hip.

“Stop flattering me.”

Maybe it's just an impression, but from here Omera's presence seems to shrink. She takes an imperceptible step back from them and mutters, "It looks like you found your belonging."

“I did,” Din starts saying, but he gets interrupted by the pair of shrieking brats hurrying their way.

They crash into Din's and Cara's shins and start jumping up and down.

"Mama, Papa, can we play with the other children?" Shari pleads.

Din and Cara exchange a fond, helpless look and concede their permission.

“What are the rules?” Din stresses.

“No tricky tricks, we promise!” exclaims Shari at once, then seeks her brother's agreement. When he nods, his ears flapping adorably, she points her begging eyes at Din again, “Can we go, please?”

"Sure,” he laughs. “Just be careful, okay?"

"Shari, keep an eye on your brother, please!" Cara calls after them as they trot away together.

Shari doesn't even turn back to reply a distracted, "O-kay!"

Three seconds later, she and Vodi are both splashing water all over each other with the young villagers.

"They seem very fond of each other,” Omera notes.

Cara pops a berry into her mouth.

"They are,” she confirms, oozing motherly pride. “Shari's still a bit confused by the fact that she's outgrown her big brother, but this never stopped them from being like any other siblings out there."

Din couldn't be more glad of the strong bond the children have developed: Vodi was very protective of Shari even when she was still in the womb and would spend hours splayed over his mother's round belly listening to the baby moving inside. It took Din and Cara a few years to realise both their son and daughter had very special powers and could communicate in ways ordinary people couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Let's go sit by the pond,” proposes Omera. “I'll bring some spotchka."

"Water is fine," says Cara as they start walking. “He can't drink, anyway.”

They sit down on a bench in the shade of a hut and watch the kids play. Cara gulps down three whole cups of water while she finishes her oi-ois with a faint smile stretching her lips. Din still can't comprehend how she's suddenly so fond of a food she's always loathed so ardently, but she seems happy with herself, so he doesn't insist.

There's something about her, today, that keeps distracting Din, a mysterious glint in her eyes he can't quite identify or explain but that is definitely there. He wonders if she's thinking what he's thinking, how strange it is to be here after such a long time. They're entirely different people than the ones they used to be their first time here; Din's heart is pierced by a pang of pain when he wonders what would have been of him if he hadn't met Cara in that cantina, if the people of this village hadn't asked for his help and Cara's... Everything he has today, all he cherishes, he owes it to that lucky day.

Omera offers Cara some more water, which Cara eagerly accepts, then says, "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"We were passing by,” says Din. His hand is lying on Cara's leg, thumb absently stroking her knee. “And decided to take a little detour to see how things were going. I'm confident you haven't had any more problems with raids?"

"None, thanks to you. We will never be able to pay you back for what you did for us."

"Seeing the peace of this place is the best reward. Besides,” Din gives Cara's knee a gentle squeeze. “Helping your people changed our lives."

"For the better,” she agrees with a loving grin.

"Mama!” calls Shari from the pond. “Can you do my shoelace, pleaaase?"

Cara shoves her cup into Din's hand with a glare. “I taught her to read and write. Tying shoelaces should be _your_ thing.”

“She says I can't make it as pretty as Mama.”

Cara gracefully rises a middle finger at him as she heads toward Shari by the pond, eliciting a snort from Din that comes out too similar to a laugh.

He watches her get down on one knee and slowly fix Shari's loose shoelaces to let her memorise the process – which she won't, because Shari is exceptionally smart and she would have learned to do that herself is she _wanted_ to. She just likes to get some attention, from time to time, just like her bother does when he refuses to speak instead of just pointing and crying ' _Uh!'._

"I can see why you thought you wouldn't fit in, here,” begins Omera after a long pause. She's staring at Cara and the children with a wistful expression. “Seeing you with her... it's so clear, now. I should have seen it when you were first here: the way you parted, how you looked at each other...”

The recollection of that day is bittersweet in Din's memory. He still remembers Cara's smile like it was yesterday, the feeling he was leaving something behind that he was going to miss, though at the time he had no idea what it was. He certainly does, now.

"It was a long journey,” he sighs, his thoughts wandering back to the hustle and bustle that lead him and Cara to where they are today. “Rough. I almost lost her before I realised how much she meant to me. But we're still here,” he smiles, “and it's... so much more than I could have hoped for."

Omera's jaw tightens briefly before she swallows.

“Are you still travelling?”

“From time to time. We decided to settle down when Shari was born, for the kids' sake. It took us a while to get used to a more domestic lifestyle, but it's good. I wouldn't trade this for anything else.”

"They're lucky to have you."

"No.” Din hangs his head, shaking it weakly. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks ahead to where the children are showing Cara how to catch the krill swimming in the pond. “I'm the lucky one. I didn't deserve any of this,” he mutters. The way Cara smiles at the kids causes a warm flutter in his heart. “But she gave it to me anyway."

“Did you let her see your face?”

Omera's voice is thin, barely a whisper. Din can see why she's asking. He answers her question in all honesty:

“Not for a long time. She was seven months pregnant with Shari when I first took my helmet off in the daylight.”

The memory of it is carved into his soul, bright and vivid like a star in the night: the love and emotion in Cara's eyes when they met his own, the baby moving and kicking inside her, responding to her accelerated heartbeat... He can barely think about it without tearing up.

“She married you,” Omera says slowly, “and carried your child without even-”

He doesn't let her finish. He doesn't do it on purpose but before he can stop himself, he says with a smile, “That's what I mean when I say I don't deserve her.”

"You talking behind my back?" Cara jokes, approaching with a half chuckle painted across her lips. Beads of perspiration glitter on her forehead.

"As always."

Cara rolls her eyes, giggling.

"Whatever he said about me,” she warns Omera as she sits back down next to Din, “it's an exaggeration."

She steals her cup back from Din's hands and drains it in a greedy gulp, then runs the back of her hand across her forehead, groaning under her breath.

"Are you okay?” Din inquires. “You look tired."

"It's hot around here,” complains Cara. She points the cup in the pond's direction. “Those two little shits are wet and sweaty head to toe: if they catch something, I'm marooning them here for the time being. I'm in no condition to bear a string of sleepless nights.”

She sits back against the wall, exhaling a long sigh. Din gently rubs a hand up and down her thigh.

“Let them play some more, then I'll dry them up.”

"Mama, Vodi ate a frog!" yells Shari from the pond. Her pigtails are a mess and the knees of her leggings are blotched in green and brown.

"It's okay, sweetheart,” Cara yells back, “the frogs are clean around here."

Shari glances down at the orange frog her brother is holding up for her. Din grins to himself: he knows exactly what she's about to ask.

"Can I eat one?"

Cara laughs that beautiful laugh of hers that crawls under Din's skin and warms him up from the inside. "I doubt you'd like it."

Omera is sitting tight in her corner of the bench, her mouth a thin, straight line. It looks like she's watching the village children running around; her gaze, however, is oddly still and blank.

She's shaken from her trance when a girl appears by her side and touches her shoulder.

“Mother, the hut for our guests is ready.”

The girl's eyes briefly brush over Din and Cara with what Din can only describe as contempt. Omera puts on an awkward, apologetic smile and says, “You remember my daughter Winta?”

“Of course,” Din confirms, though the person in front of them is a fully grown young woman who has very little left of the child they originally met.

Cara beams up at her. “Hey. It's good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Winta says coldly, regarding Cara like any other girl her age would look at a bug on their bedroom floor. Then, without another word, she turns on her heel and strides away.

Cara is perplexed. She doesn't know what lies beneath this, what happened last time they were here, though she once joked about it. Din himself had forgotten about it.

“Forgive her,” Omera mumbles, staring at her hands on her lap. “She got... _ideas_ when she saw your ship land and-”

It doesn't take much guessing to get what she means. Her embarrassment alone speaks volumes, and Cara apparently understands, too, now. She even looks slightly guilty, but none of this is her fault: din rejected Omera long before he and Cara developed – or acknowledged – their mutual feelings.

“I understand,” he says, following the forgiving smile Cara sends to the woman, who nods meekly in gratitude. She won't look at either of them.

Cara bends to pick up the backpack Din as at his feet and throws it over her shoulder as she stands.

“I'll take our stuff to the hut.”

Din checks Vodi and Shari: they're still playing in the water with the other children. They can handle themselves for a few minutes.

“I'll help,” he announces. “I need to take this thing off for a while.”

He stands up and places a hand on the small of Cara's back in a light caress. He briefly touches his forehead against hers, then takes her hand and follows her to the hut they have been assigned.

It's funny, walking these paths now. Din can remember the thrill that kept him and Cara awake for several nights during the days they spent training these people to fight and defend themselves. There was a lot of spotchka and a lot of silly half-drunk chatting in the dark. Even after the success of their plan, they spent a lot of unnecessary time together – sparring, teaching each other moves and tricks, talking about their lost families and what it was like to be alone in the world. If anyone had told them then that this is where they would end up in a few years, they both would have scoffed and laughed at the absurdity of the idea. And yet here they are, where everything began.

Where their stars were written.


	2. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara spills the beans. Fluff ensues.  
> Meanwhile, the children make a very unexpected encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pointless, almost plotless fluff. The ending provides a bit of plot, but not too much. Plots are for real writers and I'm just a lazy ass wanting to see her idiots being in love. ;)

The semblance of freshness inside the hut makes Din release a long sigh of relief. The heat and the humidity outside are not so intense to be unbearable, but his beskar makes everything feel exponentially worse.

“Hey, you okay?”

He feels the gentle touch of Cara's hand upon his shoulder. He turns around to meet her eyes, finding a hue of concern in them.

He pulls his helmet off and sets it down on the table next to him, offering Cara a smile.

“Just hot.”

“You're always hot,” she smirks, and Din smirks back, because he definitely saw this coming. This is usually his line, though.

Cara rises a hand to rake it through his tousled hair. Her cheeks are a bright pink, shiny with a faint sheen of sweat, her eyes bright with that mysterious glint that hasn't left them in days. It's impossible for Din to resist the temptation: he cups her face into one hand and traces his thumb over the softness of her skin. She smiles as he draws her forward to brush a kiss on her forehead; when he starts pulling back, she grabs the cowl around his neck and, still smiling, tugs him down to capture his lips with her own.

The way Din wraps her up into his arms oozes love and hunger. If it was just the two of them, he'd spin her around, sit her up onto the table and take her right here and right now. He groans into her mouth at the mere idea, his rush of lust promptly refrained by the pending awareness that the children are outside and might burst in any second.

Cara pulls back and giggles, likely imagining what sort of thoughts are making him groan so frustratedly.

She trails her fingertips over his beard, suddenly very serious.

“What was the deal, out there?” she inquires with a nod towards the curtain posing as a door at the entrance. “Did I miss something?”

Din helplessly hangs his head. He doesn't know why he still marvels at how perceptive she is: he should be used to it, by now.

He sighs, “Last time we were here, Omera... I think she developed an attachment to me.”

“Lonely woman crushes on knight in shining armour...” Cara tips her head to one side, “that's hardly news, uh?”

Din shakes his head slightly, thinking back to those days as a peculiar mix of very vivid memories and faint ghosts. There are things he remembers perfectly – Cara sitting in the cantina with that threatening glare painted across her beautiful face; Vodi chasing frogs around the ponds; the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through his veins after the fall of the AT-ST and the way Cara laughed and made him laugh after that – and other things that barely feel real, by now. One of the latter is Omera's infatuation.

“She wasn't interested in _me,”_ he says. “She made it quite clear she only liked the idea she had of me. Without... compromises.”

Any further explanation is unnecessary to Cara, who has been dealing with people's perplexity regarding her husband's creed restrictions for so long she can silence stupid questions before they're even uttered. Din may or may not find it slightly arousing.

With a scowl, Cara glances down at the helmet on the table, then back at Din.

“Did she ask you to-”

“She tried to take it off.”

He can see the shock and the anger flash quickly through Cara's eyes before she blinks, regaining her composure.

“I'm sure she didn't mean- She didn't know what it means to you.”

“She did. I'd told her.”

Cara's jaw contracts. Her shoulders are stiff again. It makes Din grin inwardly: who knew she could be _retroactively_ protective. He shouldn't be surprised, though: he's sure Cara could slaughter on sight anyone who's ever done any harm to him.

“That is... not cool.”

Din can tell she's holding herself back. Sometimes she cares more about his beliefs than he does. Slowly, realisation morphs the look on her face from outraged to wistful.

“That's why you became so detached from her all of a sudden, isn't it?”

It was naïve of him, Din thinks, to accept the woman's kindness without considering the implications she might see in his clueless behaviour. Back then, he had little to no experience with romantic feelings and sure he couldn't have anticipated his seemingly harmless gratitude could be interpreted as anything beyond that. Most of what he knows about human emotions, he's learned through these years, with Cara's patient, unrelenting help.

Still, the recollection of that day when Omera's hands grabbed his helmet caused a twist in his stomach: it was unacceptable that he let her get so close to dishonouring him.

“What she did was... deeply disrespectful and offensive,” he mutters. “Another Mandalorian would have punished her gesture with death.”

“Not you, though,” says Cara softly.

Din nods.

His _buir_ would have demanded that. Din thought often about that moment, after leaving Sorgan, the shame of letting someone get so close to ruining him burning like acid in his guts. It's almost funny how he completely forgot about the accident as soon as he started developing the secret desire of showing himself to Cara. There is such a significant difference between being almost violated and wanting to offer all of yourself to someone.

“I almost let her,” he confesses. “I was tempted by the promise of freedom she was offering me... before I realised I needed more than that,” he looks up at Cara, half of his mouth curled up fondly. “more than someone who only wanted me at their own conditions.”

Cara scrutinises him closely, something between concern and affection marking her features. She takes his face between her hands and caresses him tenderly, bringing him down until their foreheads meet halfway.

She closes her eyes, sighing.

“You never said anything.”

She sounds remorseful, as though it is her fault she wasn't there for him. She always expects him to let her take care of him, even for things she couldn't have done anything to prevent or fix.

“I let it go, never thought about it again after I left.”

“It's okay.” It's her forgiveness for not telling her until now. “You must have been furious.”

“I was,” he admits, “mostly with myself. I rejected her – kindly, I think. I hadn't meant to give her hopes. I don't know what I did to make her believe-”

The stream of his guilt gets interrupted by the kiss Cara presses to his lips. He can taste the salt of her sweat and a lingering sugary hint from the oi-ois.

“I think you should just accept you're extremely charming and people can't help feeling drawn to you,” she chuckles up at him.

He covers her hands, resting upon his chest, with his own and gives her a sultry look.

“You're not talking to a mirror, you know?”

She laughs, and the sound of her laughter, so warm and bright, creeps under Din's skin and fills his heart with light.

“You should be ashamed,” she pouts playfully, “toying with a poor girl's heart like this!”

“Please, don't tell my wife,” he begs, and she laughs again.

“I heard tales about your extraordinary wife kicking your ass, around here.”

“All true,” he grins. “As a very dear friend of ours always says, she punched her way to my heart.”

Cara buries her face in his neck before her scoff starts sounding too much like a giggle.

“You big, beautiful sap.”

Her lips kiss his cheek, the soft, wet sound of it almost better than the real thing. Now that she was so close to him, he could almost feel it, something like a different aura about her, a spark of electricity under his fingertips.

"It's strange to be here again, isn't it?" he says.

Cara smile and nods in agreement.

"Feels like it was another lifetime when we were training these people to fight. We did good."

"We did."

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if-"

"Yes,” Din replies before Cara has even actually asked her question, “all the time. And I don't want to know. I like things exactly as they are."

For some reason, this declaration seems to amuse Cara.

"Do you, now?"

"You don't?” he frowns.

"I don't know,” she shrugs. “It might be time we consider a few changes.”

“Like what?” he wonders. They have a cosy home on a peaceful little planet, a happy life, two beautiful children... he can't imagine wanting anything more than this.

“Replacing the old Crest, for starters,” she suggests with a subtle grin.

She has no reason to bring this up now. They've talked about this over and over and, despite the cons she brings up, Cara always ends up admitting she's as attached to the Razor Crest as much as he is: it was their home before they had anything but each other and Vodi, it provided shelter in every corner of the galaxy, the kids _love_ it...

"Why would we do that?"

"It's not very family-friendly.”

“I thought we agreed it would do for the four of us,” he argues, and Cara nods as if what he just said plays in _her_ favour.

“Yeah,” she smirks enigmatically, “that was the deal.”

Din blinks.

“So?”

“Well,” Cara envelops her arms around his waist, her smirk growing broader and broader by the second, “this is the thing,” she says, coyly tipping her head back, “I count for double, at the moment.”

Din's knees start feeling weak before his brain has even processed the meaning behind Cara's words.

“What?” he half chokes, half laughs. He feels stupidly giddy, and he shouldn't be, because he's not even sure she actually means what he thinks – _hopes_ – she means...

Cara glances down at where her stomach is pressing against his, causing a flutter in his heart.

“And very soon,” she continues, so smugly it's almost – _almost_ – insufferable, “the two of us are going to take up _a lot_ more space.”

His mind flies back to a few years ago, to a moment when he saw this expression on her face for the first time, under that pavilion in Kaunis's gardens. He remembers the joy he felt, the uncontainable pride, and the way Cara couldn't stop smiling – emotional, overwhelmed, _happy..._

“Is this a joke?”

Her dimples deepen as she shakes her head. “No jokes, my love.”

“ _Really?”_

“Uh-huh.”

He gazes down at her body in amazement: nothing seems different, there is no sign yet, except that brightness in her eyes that now finally has an explanation. It's hard to believe that... that she's...

And it's probably stupid, but he can't help asking, “Are you sure?”

“No, I'm not sure,” says Cara in a predictably mocking tone, “I enjoy teasing my man by telling him we're going to have a baby but, hey, maybe we're not.” Her nose crinkles adorably as she makes a silly face at him. _“So funny.”_

So it's true. Din can barely wrap his head around it.

They've discussed this so many times, and though the idea of having another baby did sound appealing to them both, they never _decided_ they would try. Din always thought he wanted this more than she did and eventually stopped mentioning it, afraid that Cara would do it just for his own sake. And now here they are, exactly when they started, with a new, incredible beginning coming their way.

He's hyper aware, now, of the warmth of her body pressed against his and the secret nestled inside her. He pulls her to himself and smooths her hair back, trying to take in as much of her face as he could: he wants to imprint this picture of her in his memory forever. She's still as gorgeous as she was when he met her, maybe even more, if it's even possible.

“You're insufferable,” he mutters, and the adoring tinge in his voice conveys exactly the opposite meaning of his words.

“You _love_ me,” she snorts, and Din snorts back.

“The two things don't exclude each other, you know?”

He has her face between his hands, his thumbs tracing over her cheekbones over and over, like he can't believe she exists and she chose him.

He's thinking about kissing her when she says, “I'm glad I can see your face, this time. This expression is worth a thousand words.”

Something in his chest tightens. He still can't believe Cara had to look at him through his helmet to tell him she was pregnant, the first time. Looking back now, he feels selfish for hiding his face from her for so long. The profound respect Cara always showed for his creed often made him forget how much she was sacrificing for him and now that they're standing here, face to face, sharing this moment under a whole different light, he can see how much of a difference his choice made for their whole family. He never regretted this, not even once: his wife and his children can look into his eyes, he did the right thing.

“How long have you known?” he asks with a throb in his heart.

“For sure? Just a few days. I wanted to tell you sooner, but then we decided to come here and I thought...” Cara casts a glance around. “This is where everything began. Seemed fitting to tell you here.”

Din doesn't even try to stifle a snicker.

“How have you been able to keep your big mouth shut until now?”

“I don't know,” she laughs. “I was _dying_ to blurt it all out. All I wanted was to see this stupidly proud grin on your stupidly handsome face,” she confesses, placing yet another kiss on his cheek.

“Take your time,” he whispers, nudging her with the tip of his nose, “it's not going away any time soon.”

They don't know how long they just stand there, just staring into each other's eyes like a couple of hopeless lovebirds. The laughter of the children playing outside fills the silence in the room. From the window, Din can see Vodi and Shari a little girl sitting on the grass with them how to make a flower crown.

“Those two are going to be very excited,” Din says while, outside, Vodi sneezes after smelling a giant daisy.

Cara follows his gaze and laughs.

“Yeah. I bet Shari can't wait to tell everyone she's going to be a big sister.”

“Speaking of which...” he begins, but Cara stops him right there.

“Oh, I know what you're getting at,” she chuckles. “I won, last time, and my money is still on girl.”

Din grins. It's good to know some things never change, and never will.

“Two hundred?” he asks into her ear.

“Getting bold, aren't we?”

“Go big or go home.”

“Well, then. Two hundred it is.”

“This time I've got you, Dune.”

“You know, we can't keep having children until you win this bet,” Cara teases, but this isn't remotely enough to discourage Din. If anything, it's a rather appealing incentive. He wouldn't mind filling their whole little planet with beautiful, dark-eyed children.

“Who says we can't?”

Cara arches her eyebrows. "I think two going three is enough. We're not getting any younger, Mandad.”

“We're still young enough for a couple more.”

“Easy for you to say,” she snaps, “you're not the one who swells to the size of a Hutt.”

Din feels his pants getting tighter at once. The mere picture that has been evoked in his mind is enough to nearly blind him with arousal.

“You know what seeing you with a baby bump does to me,” he reminds her, as if she could ever forget.

“Yeah,” she agrees cheekily, “the tangible proof of your virile accomplishment. You knocked up your wife, great job!”

A new surge of arousal spreads in Din's loins, only slightly diluted by the amusement bubbling in his chest. He hopes the villagers still gather around bonfires for dinner, because he needs the children to stay distracted for a few hours, later: he can't possibly keep his hands off Cara much longer.

“It's hard to take your sarcasm seriously when you're wearing such a radiant smile,” he notes warmly. He's still feeling drunk with excitement. Five years ago, he came here as a lonely hunter with a nameless kid in tow; today, he's here with his family, with a real purpose in life, and it's more than he ever dared to hope for.

“Mama, Papa, look!” calls Shari's voice one second before she bursts through the curtain at the entrance. “I caught a fishie!”

She's drenched in water head to toe, dangling a poor krill, hopefully dead, and looks extremely proud of herself.

“Well done, sweetheart,” Cara congratulates, turning in Din's arms to smile down at her.

Her brother comes waddling in right after, in no better condition.

“Vodi caught two but he ate them,” Shari announces like it's a great disappointment they don't have further proof of their successful hunt.

“I think they're trying to tell us they're hungry,” says Din, pretending to whisper to Cara.

“Subtle as always, uh?”

Vodi starts pulling at his sister's elbow until she gives him and give up her trophy for him; he immediately stuffs the whole krill into his mouth.

“Will Papa have to wear his helmet, here?” Shari inquires, noticing the helmet in question lying on the tabletop.

Cara runs a hand over her hair. Her pigtails are all fuzzy and half undone.

"You know the rules, honey: we're the only ones allowed to see his face."

"I'm too handsome, _ad'ika,”_ adds Din couching up in front of her and Vodi. “If I take the helmet off out there, everyone will fall in love with me, and we don't want that, do we?”

Both children shake their head with admirable vehemence that makes Din and Cara burst out into a fond laugh.

“Did Mama fall in love with you because you showed her you're sooo handsome?” Shari asks, staring Din straight in the eye. The curious and clever look on her face is so painfully _Cara_ Din can hardly believe he had any part in making this girl.

"No,” he says with a quick glance up at Cara. “Mama didn't even know what I looked like until shortly before you were born.”

Shari's big black eyes go wide in surprise

“Is it true?”

“Yeah.”

Shari and Vodi exchange a puzzled look, then both turn to Cara.

“But what if Papa was ugly?”

It makes Cara laugh, but not Din. That was something he used to be very afraid of: Cara finding him unattractive. While a part of him never doubted her love, another part, the weak, self-conscious one, was always afraid he wouldn't be enough for someone so strikingly beautiful. But Cara _loves_ him and, against all odds, apparently finds him rather attractive, too.

“It doesn’t matter when you love someone, does it?” says Cara, probably intercepting the direction Din's thoughts have taken. She winks at him; he winks back.

Shari doesn't sound completely sure when she drawls, “No? But I'm happy Papa isn't ugly.”

"Yeah,” Cara chuckles, crossing her arms while giving Din a very appreciative once-over. “I guess it doesn't hurt, right?”

Din groans inwardly, feeling a light blush crawling up his neck. How can he feel flattered by his own wife's flirting? Will this sense of stupid elation ever go away?

Probably not.

The kids grab the two halves of the same loaf of bread Cara hands out to them and immediately run back outside.

Din stands up, smiling at their untamable energy. When he turns around, he finds Cara leaning over the small table, hands clutched to the border, inhaling deep, slow breaths.

“Hey.” He places a hand on the small of her back, rubbing gently. “Are you okay?”

Cara nods reassuringly.

“Yes, just a little-” She trails off, stilling, and holds her breath for a second. “Kriff, I really didn't miss this part.”

Din hugs her and lets her rest her back against his chest, massaging her stomach while she tries to ride the wave of nausea.

“I'd take it for you, if I could,” he murmurs into her neck.

“I know you would,” she says softly, letting her head fall back upon his shoulder, “but I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.”

Din is sure he wouldn't either. Feeling sick and tired for weeks, if not months, doesn't sound like an unreasonable price to pay to be able to feel a whole new life begin and grow inside you.

“Is everything okay? How have you been feeling?”

“Surprisingly good,” she almost moans as his caresses over her abdomen grow languid. “We'll see if it lasts. With Shari I started throwing up around the second month.”

“How far along are you?”

“About seven weeks.”

Din snorts incredulously.

“We were at Kaunis's, seven weeks ago.”

They spent a whole month there. They were basically a hostage: Kaunis wouldn't let them leave and the children didn't want to get out of the playroom she had set for them. They even _slept_ in there a few nights, which granted Cara and Din some blissful time on their own. It was very fruitful, it seems.

“Yeah.” Cara rolls her head sideways to nuzzle her face into Din's neck. “She's going to take all the credit for this.”

“She takes credit for our entire relationship,” he points out, then asks, “You sure you're okay?”

“Don't worry: I've done this before. I'm not remotely terrified as I was the first time.”

“You know what they say: practice makes perfect.”

“Stop it,” she warns with a little laugh.

“Never.”

She fastens his arms more tightly around her middle, grinning as she prints a kiss against his jawline.

“You're a smug little shit.”

What can Din even say on his own behalf? Denying would be blatantly hypocritical of him.

“As a matter of fact,” he mutters in her hair, “I am, Mrs Mando.”

His palms are pressed over her belly in reverent adoration. There is nothing to feel yet, but this doesn't stop him from trying.

He and Cara rock together on the spot, eyes closed, humming happily under their breaths, feeling lucky and blessed to be here to share all of this in the very place where they first met.

If Din was completely honest, he would admit he was a goner for Cara before he even knew her name. The way she came down on him and crushed him despite him wearing a full beskar armour would have had any Mandalorian down on one knee with a marriage proposal in between a kick and a punch. Back then, he believed he didn't stand any chance with her; they had just met and were destined to never meet again, so it wasn't even worth a try. Fate, however, had different plans for them, and Din still thanks every star in the sky for joining his and Cara's paths and letting them have all of this. His family – both his natural parents and his Mandalorian clan – would be proud of who he is and what he has achieved. He's sure Cara's family would be as proud, too.

They have almost forgotten there is a world around them when suddenly Shari's shrill voice breaks into them room, making them jump.

“Mama! Papa!” The curtain flies open and Shari bolts in, seemingly very excited. “There is a blue ghost outside who wants to speak with you!”

“A _what?”_ Din and Cara sputter.

“A ghost!” Shari repeats, eyes shining in wonder. “He looks like Vodi but he's veeery old. He speaks funny,” she conveys, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He said _'a master, you need'._ He's a jay- a jade- a jeh-die master.”

Din and Cara freeze on the spot, barely able to breathe.

Shari blinks at them, scrunching her nose in confusion.

“What's a _jeh-die?”_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've mentioned that I started writing this story way before the last couple of installments of the series, so the kids do grow up with a proper master guiding them in their discovery of their powers. Surprise!
> 
> This is the last one, I don't think there will be further additions to this series, so this is a goodbye. <3 A big, fat THANK YOU to every single one of you who read, left kudos and especially to everyone who took a minute of their time to leave a comment and make a writer happy. You guys are the best! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I've teamed up with your dentists, I get paid to give you cavities! Ha!
> 
> This was meant to be a one shot but once again our beloved idiots wanted it to be longer and kept taking and feeling and here we are! No one is surprised, right?
> 
> P.S. I wanted a (vedy bad) visual of Cara with the mohawk-style braid hairdo but I don't have any editing program, so I had to turn to an online one and the result is soooo poor, but, hey, I tried:


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